Edition #172: An Adult Has Entered the Chat
She's not boring, I promise. Plus, long term relationship open to short, teaching your kids the art of dinner conversation, and an absurdly good carrot cake.
A Note From the Editor
Anyone who has read this newsletter over the past few years knows that each year around my birthday, I send a specific, extra-special-to-me edition that I work on throughout the preceding year. This is not that—that is coming next week—but you could call this a birthday sentiment aperitif.
I cannot help but make mountains out of the day I was born. As a perpetual reflector and a celebration enthusiast, this time of year brings forth a self-directed pomp and circumstance I will never give up; a combination of serious contemplation and childlike joy. I tried being low key on my birthday last year, in part because I thought the subtle opening would give my friends the opportunity to plan the surprise party I’ve been gunning for for years (LOL). In the end, my birthday was more or less an average day with a bit of decoration, which left me a bit blue. I suppose that is the dormant child in me, wanting to be properly fussed over on my *special day*. For better for for worse, I’m a birthday girl.
Turning 32 feels like a more major milestone, as it marks the first time I can recognize that I am a fully fledged adult. There are no more creative math equations I can drum up to justify my endless youth; people on Love Island are a decade younger than me. When I hear someone’s 27 I think we’re the same age, then I realize I’m actually five years older than they are. I Googled the lifespan of the average American woman and by those stats I’m about 40% through this ride, one step closer to that next age bracket in the internet surveys.
I am grown, yet I occasionally find myself reverting to childlike desires. Sometimes when I’m overwhelmed I think of my dear friend’s mother who used to feed me Hungarian stuffed peppers and Fazoli’s breadsticks at our sleepovers, laughing about much I could eat. Something about the mental image of her is comforting—how she loves my friend in a suffocating way, and how she can now funnel that love to my friend’s daughter. Sometimes I want that, I want someone to track my location and fret over my every move, to keep up with my doctors appointments cook my meals and read everything I write. I am now at the age when I am expected to receive the passed baton gracefully; it is my turn to provide such care, to comfort and feed and manage and direct. A strange realization, but not a bad one. I know I can do it; I can be the adult in the car, at the grocery store.
My version of adult isn’t dry or boring or overtired; she doesn’t say “It’s work, it’s supposed to suck.” She eats desserts and never feels bad for going to bed by 10 pm. She doesn’t really enjoy going out to bars anymore but she loves going dancing, and sometimes she’ll sleep in until 8:30 am on a weekday without feeling guilty. Her pulse quickens when the faint lines around her eyes look more pronounced in the mirror, though just as often she feels like a dewy teenage queen, like when everybody in the grocery store is glancing at with appreciation in their eyes. Something about a bright aura and a chunky ass. She does not own any dishware, but has boxes and boxes of books and a headful of interesting stories to tell.
Alas, I am turning 32; a self-proclaimed adult at last, but an adult on my own terms. I have spent a lot of time reflecting on those terms, cultivating them, chiseling away at the hunk of rock until it becomes a refined sculptural work of Renaissance art. Here are a few decisions I’ve made about the coming year on the quest towards becoming my cultivated adult self, in no particular order.
The great wardrobe purge. For the last 5 or so years, I’ve had this dull sense of dissatisfaction with my wardrobe. Like the relationship you’ve grown out of but you’re their plus one for a wedding in Lake Cuomo next summer, I should’ve ended things with this wardrobe a long time ago. I am finally at a delicious precipice in which all of my stuff is in a storage unit and because I plan to move out of the country for a year in the fall, I have begun evaluating everything I own with careful scrutiny. I traveled around Africa for three months with only a backpack and a small duffle bag earlier this year, proving that I don’t need a bunch of random old clothes that I never wear. I am plotting for some serious wardrobe upgrades, almost a wardrobe from scratch situation, but more than that, I’m attempting to change the way I think about consumption by asking myself these two questions before buying anything new.
Getting back in the kitchen, but for real. I have subsisted on hard-boiled eggs, carrots, cucumbers, almonds, cashews, deli turkey, chia pudding, and Mary’s crackers for the past month; i.e. whatever has the lowest possible barrier to entry in satiating myself. It's one of the downsides to my current in-flux lifestyle. Needless to say, I am so very ready to start cooking for real again once I am settled. Recipes, cookbooks, annoying $12 spices you only use once, the whole nine yards. I am also going to reignite my love for baking, because nothing beats spending a day immersed in a complex baking project and feeding treats to your friends. I want to make my way through this dessert cookbook and this one.
The end of the impossible-romantic-endeavor era. I travel a lot, I date a lot, and I haven’t been living in one location for more than five months for the past few years. I’ve developed a lifestyle-induced pattern in which I throw myself wholeheartedly into romantic situations that have a set, geographically designated expiration date, thus heightening the stakes and adding a dose of emotional charge. But I have grown tired of my theatrics, so from here on out I intend to only put energy into romantic situations that are plausible, meaning the potential suitor must either have a flexible lifestyle and/or be from a country I would feasibly live in.
Slow learning to replace the frantic Google search. The fact that I can build a sustained, applicable-to-my-life working knowledge of something rather than just panic Googling every time I have a line of inquiry is still news to me. There are a handful of things I’m interested in learning about this coming season, so I plan to practice slow learning—i.e. reading books, watching tutorials, taking courses—to build that knowledge. A few things I want to learn about: the fundamentals of nutrition to ensure I’m properly feeding myself as my body ages, simple outdoor survival skills because they seem useful and my sister said I would do well on Survivor, and basic video camera operating skills so I can shoot some of my ideas.
Some variation of the long, Italian Sunday lunch. Living alone means eating many dinners alone and I've recently grown tired of it. I love making an ordinary day feel special over a meal, so I plan to prioritize integrating the shared, at-home meal into my life’s regularly scheduled programming in the coming months. I'm thinking of putting together some sort of weekly supper club and having people over for dinner more regularly, which I naturally gravitate towards when I'm settled somewhere. Formalities aside, I will be having more frequent, non-solo dinners in the foreseeable future.
Simplify; suffering optional. The theme of my 32nd year is to simplify. Starting with material things, as mentioned above, but also in my daily operational methods. I know the formula for a good-for-me life—movement, preferably in nature/water + friends/family in close proximity + at least one exciting project at all times + adequate solo time to reflect and ingest. Sprinkle in some travel, good food, good books, and interesting conversation and I’m happy as a clam. I’ve tended to overcomplicate in the past, wanting every detail to be perfectly ironed out before embarking on a new project, stewing in indecision, using procrastination as a method of self-punishment. In truth, nothing needs to be that complicated. Follow the formula, avoid tactics that create unnecessary suffering for yourself.
Cheers, my dears, and as always thanks for reading. I’m spending the weekend in an adorable town just north of NYC. One of my best friends is coming up for the weekend—we’re going to shoot something fun on film, buy juicy farmers market tomatoes to make the ideal summer sandwich, and have a glass of wine by the river. I’m also going to put the ripe bananas I have sitting around to good use in this cake. Have a wonderful weekend! Sleep in, make stovetop popcorn, and run through the sprinklers.
Three Pieces of Content Worth Consuming
Long Term Relationship, Open to Short. Sometimes while scrolling through Hinge, I get the impression I’m at Build-a-Bear with a bunch of finicky children—the level of specificity some users will disclose about who/what they’re looking for offers endless, bewildering entertainment. That isn’t actually what this piece from
is about, but it is a hilariously specific and relatable account of modern dating app culture (and the recycled humor that comes with it). If you aren’t on dating apps, reading this will be the equivalent of watching that video of the guy decoding Gen Z slang in a rap.A (Spoken Word) Poem for The Women on Long Island. I don’t want to say anything about this except that you should absolutely watch it. Funny, accurate, powerful, and beautiful.
How I Taught My Kids to Chat at Dinner. Even though I’m not a mom, I do spend a decent amount of time with various children I love. We all know the old “how was school,” doesn’t get the job done, so I liked this sweet approach to getting kids to engage at the dinner table. My favorite thing is to ask the table is what everyone’s favorite moment from their day was. When I do this with friends, we don’t start eating until we’ve all answered the question. It’s the best way to set a positive, light mood and to have a moment of built-in reflection.
Perhaps You Should…Make An Absurdly Good Carrot Cake
My foray back into baking can be attributed to this astounding carrot cake, which I made with the aforementioned friend last week. We had a slice fresh out of the oven because we couldn’t wait, and we had a cold slice the following day. It is absolutely best when fully cold, as the recipe suggests, and don’t forget to toast your pistachios. This cake is going to be my new party trick.
**Bonus Content** (Mid-Date Questionnaire)
Last weekend, I went on a first date that lasted five (enjoyable) hours. Even so, the mind does begin to wander mid-date, which is why this made me laugh. Number 16 is low key a good question, and now this song is stuck in my head—who knew this song was about mothers?!
Also, listening to this in regular person speak is dizzying, self esteem by NYC neighborhood, low key all of my 25+ filled journals, and this song is perfect for windows down driving.
A Quote From A Book You Should Read:
“With distaste, Harriet reflected upon how life had beaten down the adults she knew, every single grown-up. Something strangled them as they grew older, made them doubt their own powers-laziness? Habit? Their grip slackened; they stopped fighting and resigned themselves to what happened. "That's Life." That's what they all said. "That's Life, Harriet, that's just how it is, you'll see.”
-The Little Friend by Donna Tartt